


Help You Through This Burning Heat

by Delta_Immortal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, M/M, PWP, Porn, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Touching, handjobs, heat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delta_Immortal/pseuds/Delta_Immortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek can't believe Stiles's strength. He can't believe how much Stiles is fighting his body's desires. But if the fumes of lust continue, the rest of the pack will be mindless before too much longer, and they have a mission to finish.</p><p>The only rational thing for Derek to do is offer to help Stiles through this arousal. As a partner. Out of necessity. </p><p>Not because he's been dying to touch Stiles for a while now. Not at all.</p><p> </p><p>New! Chapter Two/Sequel!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic is in an alternate universe where while Scott becomes alpha, Boyd and Erica are alive and well, and the loft is still a gathering place. Everyone is over 18.
> 
> Consent clause: Stiles is under an aphrodisiac, but does want to have sex with Derek through and through. While he has to have sex with someone to cure the "curse", he's enough of himself to willingly and knowingly accept Derek as a partner and give consent (he is also given a choice to find someone else).

 

 

It's _annoying_ , which isn’t surprising. Derek knows by now that everything Stiles _does_ is annoying.

What eats at the werewolf is how strong Stiles is being, how selfless. He’s helping his pack, helping Derek’s pack, and trying to come up with plans about how to track some new monster or discover what it is. Right now he’s focused, drowning out what must be at the forefront of his mind in order to help everyone.

His strength is annoying. And it must be exhausting. Derek feels exhausted as he notices, realizing how long it's been going on.

Peter has noticed it, Derek knows. And Scott must be picking up on it, though the alpha may not know what _it_ is exactly.

Stiles reeks of arousal. He reeks of lust, of heat. His pupils are blown and his face is flushed and every pheromone in his body is begging someone to come claim him. Even his body shifts, the way his hips jut out, arching his back in an attempt to be nothing short of _mounted_. Just as quickly he corrects himself, but it's nothing short of enticing.

It’s enough to drive Derek to distraction, but attempts to focus, to be the responsible older adult in a room full of college-age students. Erica and Isaac, however, are having a harder time focusing though they might not know why. Erica is far more excited and eager to listen to listen to Stiles than normal, despite Boyd being outside the loft, able to hear everything inside. Isaac isn’t saying much at all, but he's leaning well inside Stiles’s personal space, eyes fixated on the human's mouth.

How Stiles can put up with focusing on researching and planning while his body is begging him for sex is more than Derek can understand. He’s seen werewolves go crazy with that level of heat; a human shouldn’t be able to fight that power. Stiles’s heartbeat is rapid. His hands are shaking, he wets his lips and seeks out the heat in every brief touch, but still, he presses on as if nothing is the matter.

The situation, then, is annoying. Why didn’t the guy jack off already? Why did he come here knowing he was under some sort of influence? Why doesn’t he give in? Why is he so strong?

There are too many questions, and all of them frustrate Derek. Since when was Stiles so _strong_?

Stiles’s voice begins to crack, and Derek’s taken about all he can take. It’s infuriating, seeing how easily Stiles controls his instincts when Derek can feel his own rising inside him.

And if this continues, he realizes, Eric and Isaac will be two slices of bread in a Stiles Sandwich.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggests in a tone of voice that implies it is really a command. Instantly the smell of Stiles's relief washes over him, nearly making him purr on the inside. He's pleased the human. Derek winces, breathing deeply for control. That level of arousal is dangerous to present among wolves.

Peter excuses himself immediately, probably going to jack off in his own apartment from the cocktail of lust emanating from the human. Erica and Isaac seem disappointed, their own hormones responding to whatever scents Stiles is pumping out. It's enough to choke a werewolf.

Scott picks up on the hidden command. As the only alpha in the room, when he agrees to Derek’s suggestion everyone follows suit. Erica rushes outside, probably to drag and pin Boyd somewhere the rest of the pack couldn’t hear them. Isaac likewise runs off to either join Peter or at least do something along similar lines.

After five minutes, everyone is gone from the loft, gone on their own little ways. Derek swallows. The scent is worse with the loft empty. It's all the werewolf can do not to lick his lips.

Well, not quite everyone. Both Stiles and Derek remain, Stiles too focused on his work and Derek too focused on Stiles to leave. They have an hour before the team returns. Derek doesn't dare move right now, inhaling through his nose silently.

When he's calmer, he opens his mouth, never one to beat about the bush. “What did you do?” he demands. He shows none of his satisfaction at Stiles’s flinch. Good. Stiles has been torturing Derek all evening.

“Gah,” Stiles says, clearly on edge. “Don’t… don’t do that. Don’t go from silence to demanding answers, you creepy-“

Derek walks a little closer. “Why didn’t you take care of it earlier?”

Stiles looks up at him, confused. His eyes squint as he tries to figure out what Derek is talking about. Slowly, his eyes grow wider as his mouth opens in horror. His face pales, too, though probably due to all that blood is rushing to Stiles’s dick.

Derek can hear it. He can hear the increase in Stiles’s breaths. He can hear soft, high-pitched whines as Stiles imagines what Derek is talking about.

He can see when Stiles thinks about what would happen here- Derek pinning him over the table, hands slipping between his legs, mouth biting at his skin. Stiles doesn't even realize he whimpers, how his body _exposes_ itself to Derek, leaning back slightly to entice the older man to _take_ him.

It is precisely because Stiles doesn't realize that Derek refuses to touch him.

“I totally ate breakfast earlier, dude,” Stiles replies quickly, turning as fast as he can to the computer screen, tapping a pencil to try and divert that energy. Derek comes a little closer, the scent stronger and making him lightheaded. Stiles shivers and from this angle, his eyelashes seem so long, fluttering before becoming half-hooded.

Another spike of lust, and Stiles swallows, gripping the pencil for dear life.

Derek leans in over his shoulder, never touching. It’s almost amusing how Stiles’s body leans to him, as he elongates his neck subconsciously to feel more of Derek’s hot breath against it. “Stiles,” Derek says again, calmly, crushing the wave of dizziness at the human’s scent, “We could all smell it. What happened?”

“I dunno,” Stiles says quickly, suddenly interested in the paper he’d been marking earlier. His hand reaches back to scratch his neck, purposely sliding off the chair and away from the wolf. “I dunno what you’re talking about, man.”

This much denial should be praiseworthy. But Derek finds it frustrating. If Stiles's condition isn't fixed it’ll keep people’s minds from the mission. It keeps Stiles fidgeting, _presenting_ himself. Derek hates the fidgeting, having his attention drawn to those long fingers, that mouth that seems both too tight and too wide and always far too wet.

He needs to solve this. As impersonally as possible, especially if Stiles just walked away from him. Unfortunately, this particular cure, he knows, needs two people. There are options for Stiles, at least.

Derek raises an eyebrow as the human shrugs at him, feigning ignorance about his condition. Time to bring out the big guns.

“You’re aroused, and have been ever since you walked in this room.”

Stiles closes his eyes as if Derek’s words cause him physical pain. “And I’m trying not to think about it, thank you very much,” Stiles shoots back angrily, turning his gaze at him. “But no, you had to go and ruin that for me. Thanks a lot, asshole.” Stiles swallows, face flushed, but glares at Derek. His eyes trail over Derek's crotch just for the tiniest moment.

Derek betrays nothing on his face, no amusement, no frustration. Just scowling. “Stiles. Magic or potion or flower or?” he asks. Somehow he realizes after speaking that he’s known too many if he’s figured that out.

“Potion,” Stiles says quickly, and then makes a follow-up noise as if he’s pissed with himself. “Of course, it’s a potion. Was trying to mix different things together for some sort of anti-werewolf charm, and nope!”

Derek takes a step back as Stiles takes a step forward. Stiles throws himself on the balls of his feet and angrily moving his hands around. “Nope! Gotta make myself horny 24/7! I didn’t even think I _could_ get any hornier and then suddenly I’m dealing with it _all the time_!”

He’s looking at Derek like this is Derek’s fault somehow. Derek raises an eyebrow and Stiles keeps talking angrily, keeps moving forward.

Stiles is still angry. Pointed. Derek sits. Having Stiles angry will not help. Stiles _can't_ be running on emotions right now.

“I _tried_ jacking off! I’ve tried looking it up! But the only cure is someone else to get you off, and seeing as I’m a virgin with nothing going for me, I-“ Stiles stops abruptly, taking in their situation. His face goes pale while something in his pants twitches.

Surely Stiles didn't know what his body was doing. His body just moved forward as he spoke, and now Stiles is looming over Derek, hands on Derek's shoulders and nearly straddling him. He flushes again, sweat breaking out on his pale skin and he smells _wonderful._

Derek calls on his anger, his anchor, and tries to rein his claws back in.

“Fuck,” Stiles says, trying to take a step back, but his body won’t let him. “I didn’t mean- oh god, this looks bad, Derek, I’m not after you, I swear,” Stiles rambles quickly.

Derek just puts his hands on Stiles’s wrists, watching as the human flinches. But Derek doesn’t break them or hurt them. “I can help,” Derek offers coldly, impassively, like he’s offering to help knock snow off a rooftop.

“No way,” Stiles replies, pulling away now. “No, no, I do _not_ want my first experience to be Mr. Looms-in-Corners.” Stiles takes a couple steps back. Derek can hear the lie. Stiles _does_ want. Stiles wants him and Derek breathes again, so close to being on edge, so close to tipping out of rational thought and just ending this madness.

Of course Stiles wants. Stiles would just about have anyone at this moment.

“It’d just be a quick jerk-off, Stiles,” Derek deadpans. “If you stay that way, who knows what situation you’ll be in? Peter was staring at you the whole time." Stiles's face flinches and the arousal drops somewhat.

Okay. Stiles wouldn't have _anyone._ That's good to know.

Derek keeps talking. "Hell, Stiles, even Scott noticed. If you can’t fix this before they come back, go home. Call us through Skype or something.”

Stiles bites his lip, weighing the options in his mind. “They noticed?” His plea is barely a whimper.

Derek cannot believe Stiles is in this much denial. It is a gift or a curse, he can’t tell which. “Yes, Stiles. They noticed." At the human's fallen face Derek continues, strangely urged on to comfort the human. "They might not have known what it was, but they reacted. It's a base instinct.”

Stiles is reluctant to meet Derek's eyes, thinking the wolf's words over in his mind. Logic is winning again, and the scent dies down just a little. Derek feels like celebrating or relaxing. He isn't sure which.

Finally, Stiles speaks. “…Will it fix me?” Stiles looks at Derek, giving in against Derek’s strange-seeming expertise. "The books all suggested something _more_."

Derek knows what Stiles is talking about, but nods. “It will,” Derek answers. “I’ve seen it firsthand.” He isn’t going to bother answering how. “If you’d been wolf, you’d probably have given into your instincts by now,” Derek adds, as if that will ease the humiliation. 

Stiles nods as his body tenses, skin heated and flush. Excellent, Derek thinks, this will get it over with much sooner. Anticipation and excitement combined with the lust will help Stiles. If Stiles can't get it up, the state he's in will quickly override any mental barriers. “There’s a small guest room over there,” Derek offers.

“I suppose it’s better than an open industrial room,” Stiles agrees, and then his eyes look over the almost bare room. “They… they’d be able to smell it here, wouldn’t they?”

Derek nods. “But they won’t if it’s the other room. Not if we clean up well enough,” he adds. It’s a lie. But it’s a lie he can live with for now. “And besides, it’s just a handjob. Nothing serious. Not like it’ll be your first time, really.”

Stiles seems to relax at that, his mouth repeating those words though no vocalization comes out. Derek can here the whispers anyway. “It’s not gonna be your first time,” Stiles repeats to himself. The words somehow twist at Derek, like the wolf wants Stiles to remember.

Like he wants to impress the human.

That's dumb. "Stiles,” Derek barks, focusing on the task at hand. “We’re wasting time here. I can help you, or I can hire someone for you, if you’d rather,” Derek offers.

“No,” Stiles says, body suddenly relaxed and pliant and soft. “I want you.” His face seems so sad then, but he forces a smile. “It’s perfect.” The face drops for a moment. “I mean, the solution. Thanks for helping me out.” He bites his tongue again. “Let’s just go,” he mutters, face even redder than before. Clearly the burning desire is starting to affect the human's ability to think, Derek decides, and says nothing about it. 

The walk over to the other room is nothing but awkward. Hell, the entire situation is awkward. Nothing is beautiful or romantic or sexy about any of this. It’s stiff, blunt, and efficient though something itches underneath his skin as something coils in his stomach, wanting to be released.

It should be efficient, Derek reminds himself. Stiles messed around with potions and now he has to suffer the consequences. He’s lucky it’s not Peter who’s helping him out; Peter also knows this remedy. And owing Peter a favor is like making a deal with a demon.

Derek is only helping him out. Only helping, like a tool, letting Stiles go back to normal. Stiles stands next to the bed, turning around and holding his hands up as if to say, "I'm here, and?"

Derek shuts the door behind him, not bothering to take off his clothes. He isn’t planning on dirtying them anyway. If he does this right, it'll be impersonal and it won't affect their relationship. 

He doesn't want it to affect their relationship.

Stiles is all nerves, now, and the nerves are enough to calm the human's lust, though Derek knows it's only momentarily. “Well,” he says, flapping his arms in a big gesture that reminds Derek of a struggling bird in an oil spill, “What do I do now?”

“You could take off your pants,” Derek offers helpfully. “Or take off all your clothing, if that does it for you.”

Stiles winces at Derek's bluntly. “Ha, see, this seemed like a great idea beforehand, but now that I’m in here with you-“

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, Derek realizes the scent is much stronger than in the other room. Here, Stiles is confined, close. Derek suddenly isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

But he has to. He has to control, he _needs_ to help Stiles, to touch Stiles, to maybe-

Stiles has stopped talking. “Is this going to be a bad thing?” he asks as Derek reclaims himself.

“No,” Derek says shaking his head clear. “Let’s do this as quickly as possible. Strip.”

Stiles obeys the command, agreeing with the wolf wholeheartedly for once. The motions are rubbery and robotic. Stiles’s not comfortable yet. Derek can’t force himself to look at the body, keeping his eyes in contact with Stiles's own. _It isn’t for me_ , Derek reminds himself. _It’s for Stiles._

Oh, does Derek want it to be for him. He'd spread the man up over the sheets, pressing Stiles's lithe body into the bed, giving him no slack, no chance to escape-

“Back against me,” Derek tells Stiles in a small, barely controlled voice. Stiles is too gone to notice.

The human obeys, shyly. He’s never done this before. Derek can feel his nerves growing as he presses his back against Derek’s chest. Derek breathes, feeling Stiles's breath against him, already heavy and panting, and the human's body heat might be even higher than Derek's right now.

Derek wraps his hands around the man in front of him, bringing a mouth to Stiles’s neck. Stiles can't help but let out a groan, body automatically leaning into the touch, seeking what Derek is offering. It's a good thing.

Nervousness is shattering. Arousal is winning.

Excellent. This will be over quickly.

“You smell good,” Derek whispers against his neck, and Stiles merely lets out a whimper and bites back a gasp, lengthening his neck to allow Derek's mouth more access to his flesh. “Still scared, though.”

“Well, it’s kinda hard not to be, when-“ Stiles trails off as Derek’s hands start roaming. “That feels nice.”

Derek can feel his abs, feels his ribs, his skin that's so easy to _mark_ -

“It does. You’re too scared right now, Stiles, you have to calm down, okay?” Derek tells him, feeling conflicted.

It’s strange leading someone through their first sexual experience. He feels a little guilty for being Stiles’s first, and guilty that he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying the way Stiles feels beneath his touch, soft, taut. He enjoys feeling Stiles's chest assisting the motion of Derek's hands as they rapidly stroke up and down, always pressing Stiles's body against him.

His claws form, only slightly, and he rakes them gently down Stiles’s chest. Stiles throws his head back against Derek’s shoulder, groaning. "God," Stiles utters under his breath, and Derek can see his pupils blown wide, face red and flush spreading. He can feel how the human's body trembles, knowing how badly Stiles has wanted this for some time.

Good, Derek thinks. Stiles is getting into this. “Stiles,” he says, his hands leaving the chest beneath him and moving lower. Teasingly, he runs his fingers through the patch of hair he finds there, pulling and twisting only a little, eliciting groans and gasps as Stiles begins to grind back against him, lips trembling.

He’s still on Derek's shoulder. Occasionally Derek tugs just a little bit harder and Stiles's eyes squeeze shut, back arching as he gasps something encouraging. Derek can't focus on words when a hot, moist breath is panting in his ear.

Derek feels a little bit of pity. He wants to work Stiles up first, so when Derek finally touches his cock the human will burst. Less hassle, less memory for all involved. It means he needs to tease Stiles now, get him on edge.

Much to Stiles's dismay Derek's hands deviate from the happy trail to the inside of Stiles's thighs. Derek's hands are wide and he squeezes the muscles tightly, now registering Stiles's pants of "No, damn you, not _there_ ".

The wolf runs his fingers up and down the front of Stiles’s thighs, feeling muscles as they strain, feeling Stiles as his hips buck forward in an attempt to force those hands where Stiles wants. The human's thighs are smooth and not soft at all. They're tough, straining to hold Stiles up as his body trembles beneath the werewolf.

"Stiles." The words are almost reverent.

Stiles puffs hot air against Derek’s neck. “Y-Yeah?” he asks, his voice nearly breaking.

Derek can’t help himself. “You ever think about me?” he asks again, before biting down on Stiles’s neck, sucking and biting and marking. Stiles squirms underneath him, blood rushing, firing through his veins.

And Derek can hear it all, knows what it means.

It’s a “Yes”.

His head is swimming. This is affecting him more than he’d like. He’s got to end this quickly, end it before this gets too unprofessional, before it ruins whatever tentative friendship they’ve tried to build.

Derek never wants this to end.

Stiles’s left hand raises up suddenly, pressing against Derek’s cheek and drawing the werewolf out of his thoughts. Still panting, Stiles entraps the other side of Derek’s head with his own, their noses brushing. “Touch me,” he whispers against Derek's lips and Derek can taste the desperation.

Derek is sure he's also trembling at this point, rock-hard in his pants and gyrating back on the ass grinding against him. His body is yelling at him, telling him to pin the man down against the bed until he’s claimed, marked. It’s been too long for Derek, too long without a partner and now there’s one against him, willing, pleading, and wanting, dripping onto Derek's hands occasionally from his leaking cock.

But Derek must stay strong. He must.

His hands move upward, squeezing the inside of Stiles's thighs one last time before finding Stiles's balls with his left hand, and finding Stiles's shaft in his right. He squeezes it gently with his rough fingers, delighting in the way it jumps, throbbing and burning beneath his fingertips.

Stiles gasps loudly, all too sweet, hot, and it sears in Derek’s stomach. He wants this too much. He wants to press Stiles into the bed, until all Stiles can feel is Derek against him, moving, breathing together. Derek wants to spread Stiles apart on the bed, to watch him rut on Derek's fingers, to watch the human beg so prettily in the pillows and cry out Derek's name.

This is been a terrible time for Stiles to choose to concoct a potion that would make the human _and_ everyone else around him aroused. The only thing that holds Derek back is his promise to Stiles that nothing else would happen. It restrains him, keeps his head in check, even if he is grinding his pelvis against the ass in front of him with his rock-hard dick.

Derek squeezes the human’s balls gently and Stiles falls forward onto the tiny bed, gasping for breath. The legs are shaking and his back is too far arched- he's presenting, and he doesn't even know, doesn't realize. Derek releases his balls in order to hold up Stiles's hips, because he knows if he sees that ass he won't be able to stop, not with how Stiles's _heat_ stifles the room.

Derek can feel his own pulse rising at the incredible scent Stiles is giving off- somehow he’s never known anyone to be this aroused. Is it the potion, he wonders, or is it the bent-up frustration of being a virgin?

Stiles's hands are tightening in the sheets, desperately trying to hold on to some form of reality while Derek strokes the shaft gently, one hand traveling upwards, upwards until he presses a finger against the wet slit he finds at the tip.

Stiles is breathing, loud, soundless breaths that somehow echo in the room. Derek can almost see his mouth- far too wide, to open, trying to take in as much air as he can. He's done this to Stiles. He's taken the human apart, left him debauched and _ruined_ for anyone else-

The realization that he is Stiles’s first anything sears through him, and he presses Stiles closer, tighter.

“Never thought I’d see you this quiet,” Derek comments dryly, hoping that Stiles cannot hear the possessiveness in his voice. Stiles is bent over on the bed before him- their hips align in just a way that would be so sweet to take, if there were not Derek’s jeans between them, and Stiles is groaning, moaning, trembling, _lost_.

This is more than Derek had expected. This is better, more involved, hotter, than Derek knew Stiles could be. His own head is spinning, screaming at him to take the mate before him.

“I-I,” Stiles starts, and Derek shifts a little at the sound. It’s so broken, so full of _need._  “Oh, fuck, Derek,” Stiles utters, breaking into a gasp. Whatever he says next is lost, no air making it to his vocal cords. It just stops in his lungs, drumming with every heartbeat.

Derek can hear it all. He can't help but bite back a grown as his hips start thrusting, rutting through the jeans and trying to find Stiles's ass. The human only cries out, not at all minding the sensation, meeting Derek thrust for thrust.

Derek’s hands resume stroking the human below him, feeling a wicked thrill as Stiles thrusts into his palm awkwardly.

“Fuck,” Stiles starts, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna-“

Derek smells it before he even feels it. Musky, salty scents waft through the air, right as Stiles tenses underneath his fingers. The body below Derek goes rigid while releasing one final whine, one final sound of bliss and contentment and release.

Derek inhales as much of it as he can, taking it all in, trembling as he strokes whatever droplets are left from Stiles's cock.

Stiles takes a moment to breathe, coming down from a high, still supported by Derek's arm.

Derek sniffs one more time, but now the scent has changed.

There’s no more trace of the potion. Stiles is clear. “It worked,” Derek tells him, trying to keep his own voice under control. He lets Stiles go.

The human lets out a happy noise as he collapses on the bed, breathing heavily. “Thank God,” Stiles says, exhausted. His mouth is so shiny.

The human looks so vulnerable like that, Derek thinks, and he hastily moves himself to the bathroom, closing the door. He doesn’t care if Stiles can hear him (maybe it makes him finish a little faster), or what Stiles thinks at this point.

He finishes in seconds, cold relief in his veins as he composes himself.

Right. He won’t think about this any more. Not at all.

He grabs a washcloth to give to Stiles and opens the door. Stiles is still laying there, somewhat embarrassed, but breathing.

“We’re done?” Stiles asks him. He’s tucked himself in his jeans, his eyes are closed. He won’t look at Derek.

“Yeah. There’s no trace of it left, now,” Derek tells him. He starts wiping off the bedspread, and Stiles turns, eyes open. The human tries to sit up, but Derek stops him. “Leave it, Stiles.”

There’s guilt on the human's face but Stiles does as he’s told for once. Derek thought it would be calming but instead it spears him through with discontent. Stiles never does as he's told.

Derek thinks he should say something, something about how impressed he was with Stiles’s strength, his ability to fight such a powerful potion, but no words come out. Instead, he keeps quiet and the only sound between them is the rubbing of fabrics together as Derek cleans up the mess.

It’s an awkward silence, Derek notes, although part of him wonders why he finds it awkward instead of blissful. Stiles is quiet. Stiles is thinking. 

Good. Back to his old self.

It’s not for Derek to say anything, no matter how badly he thinks he should. It'd be best if they returned to routine, back to where they were before. Stiles researching, assisting, bouncing with energy and Derek brooding, hiding in shadows and glaring at people.

The werewolf stands up, heading back to the shower.

“Thank you,” Stiles offers, quiet, nervous, sincere. Derek turns but doesn't respond. Finally, he settles on a head nod in acknowledgement. Stiles seems to relax, especially as Derek can hear a breath of "Thank God", not meant for his ears. Stiles looks over at him again, and something in his gaze leaves Derek feeling twisted, confused. 

Derek is only sure that he shouldn't look away.

Stiles looks him over before taking in a deep breath. "Let me help you next time," he offers tentatively, as if he isn't sure there will be a next time. His body stiffens up again, preparing for an attack, or preparing to defend himself from rejection. Derek is far to intimate with the movement.

Then the offer hits Derek- what Stiles has offered. A next time. Maybe without potions. What was once coiled in his chest explodes in a feeling like the sun.

"Okay," Derek agrees far too readily and shuts his mouth quickly from embarrassment. But when he looks up at the human, Stiles is smiling widely, scent content and happy. It's somehow everything Derek could want. 

 

 

 


	2. Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people asked for a sequel. Here it is!

This was an impossible situation. Derek was familiar with him; that’s how he knew he’d gotten himself into an impossible situation. Sitting in Stiles’s closet, body flushed with sweat and heat blossoming underneath his skin, breathing in his scent while hyped up on that aphrodisiac potion Stiles had made _again_ \- this was indeed an impossible situation.

Stiles’s heartbeat traveled closer to the room room and Derek attempted to take several calming breaths. He could fight this feeling, he could keep himself from planting his face in Stiles’s crotch the moment he walked into the room. Derek breathed, lightheaded and dizzy.

All he got was a whiff of the younger man’s scent- frustration and arousal. Derek’s own arousal vamped up in response, his nostrils flaring as he grabbed one of Stiles’s shirts to try and muffle that scent. 

Damnnit. This had been a terrible idea. Drinking the aphrodisiac before Stiles could poison himself again on it was a stupid idea. He should have flushed that think down the toilet.

Derek took in a deep breath, trying to ignore how tight his cock was in his pants, how he wanted to _hunt_ the man walking up the steps, how easily he could overpower him and press their bodies together. 

It was worse knowing Stiles would be completely up for that. Though Derek had been caught admitting he’d like more with Stiles in afterglow of the last time they were together, he’d kept his distance since then. There were better people for Stiles. Better, kinder, more loving people. So Derek had kept things curt, brief, and professional between them. 

Only today had he realized how frustrated Stiles was with him. He’d overheard some of Stiles’s conversation to Scott, and Derek was man enough to admit when he was wrong. So Derek had mustered up the courage to explain himself, popping into Stiles’s window. 

But Stiles hadn’t been there. Instead, there had been another one of those potions.  One drink and three orgasms later, Derek heard Stiles walking in and ran to the closet, hoping he’d be safe.

Nope. Derek took another breath in, heart pounding in his chest. Even the fear seemed muted- he almost wanted Stiles to show up, to discover him and lean down and touch his cock curiously. 

Stiles’s shirt was not helping him breathe. If anything, Derek was tonguing the shirt, hoping to taste any hint of Stiles’s sweat on his tongue. He pulled the shirt away from him, swallowing. He could do this. He wouldn’t jump Stiles. 

Stiles’s heartbeat was on the other side of the door. 

“Thanks a lot, Scott,” Derek could hear Stiles mutter. “True Alpha staying out of it. Leader my ass,” he uttered and swung the door open. 

Luckily Derek was spared from thinking about Stiles’s ass when Stiles’s scent clambered into his pores. Stiles was _here_ , he was present, frustrated and sweaty from walking back from Scott’s place. Derek’s mouth opened, trying to taste that scent, remembering how flushed and heated it’d been when Stiles was underneath him. His hand automatically slid to his crotch, pants damp and leaking, breathing in Stiles like he was an addiction. 

They still had a door between them, and Derek was gone, focused on how perfectly they would fit together.

Stiles gave a loud sigh, throwing his bag against the wall. The bang shook Derek but he didn’t respond, hoping Stiles would fall asleep long enough for Derek to escape. But when thinking of Stiles’s sleeping body, laid out and pliant before him… 

Derek palmed himself a little bit, the friction just enough to bring him to a quiet climax. He bit his lip, hips moving upwards before he fell back down. 

His head hadn’t even cleared a little bit. Damn.

Stiles’s actions, though, still rang through his senses with acute clarity. He heard Stiles fall back onto the bed, rolling around a little, and his fingers grew to fangs as he pictured Stiles beneath him, squirming underneath his tongue. 

He smelled flesh before he heard the shifting of fabric- Stiles was undressing himself. The scent accosted his senses, calling out to Derek to take Stiles like he had before, to pin Stiles to his own room. 

Derek lifted his hand to his mouth and bite down, hoping the pain and blood would keep him from flinging back the closet door. Stiles would think him the most extraordinary creeper right now, rolling around in Stiles’s dirty clothes. Even if they did smell good.

Derek’s ears twitched and he cursed again as another wave of heat took him.

The metallic sound of a zipper unzipping echoed through his ears. He could picture it, he could see Stiles touching himself, trying to unzip Derek’s pants with that stupid grin on his face-

Something hit the closet door again- something that smelled musky, directly of Stiles- briefs. Stiles had thrown his briefs at the closet door. Derek wondered if he could reach a hand out and grab them, maybe that would be enough to trick the rules of the aphrodisiac-

The sound of skin rubbing gently along skin made Derek swallow. Stiles’s scent had changed- something spicy, deep, enthralling- Stiles was aroused. He was… he was going to jack off. Right now, he was touching himself as he lay back in his bed, a place Derek had just jacked off on earlier- 

Did he smell like Derek? 

Derek almost let out a whimper.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles breathed, and Derek’s heart pounded in his chest. Stiles knew. _Stiles knew_ -

“You fucking tease,” Stiles continued, and Derek paused. That didn’t… that didn’t sound like right now. “Damn it, Derek, don’t stand behind me, touch me,” Stiles pleaded, his voice throaty and desperate. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

Something _boiled_ in his stomach, bubbling to the surface. Stiles was thinking about him. 

Derek peeped through the bottom of the door but all he could see were Stiles’s feet dangling off the bed, toes occasionally curling. The scent of lust was thick in the air, just like before, and Derek breathed again through his mouth, wanting to taste it. He could hear it, the sound of a slick hand wrapped around a dick. He could smell it, the scent of Stiles’s sweat and precome and lube and desperation, _need_ , _lust_ , just like Derek was right now-

“No, Derek, not there, not there, please,” Stiles breathed again. “Wanna feel your hands around my dick. Wanna feel your body against mine, see,” Stiles arched, “See, I’m a great learner, Derek. I can do what you want.” 

Derek swallowed, picturing Stiles saying that moments before wrapping himself around his cock, his eyes looking up through his lashes as he gorged his face on Derek’s cock. He’d be beautiful. 

The human must have had the same idea, because the next words were muffled, wanton groans filling the room as the scent of spit hit the air- Stiles was sucking on his fingers. 

“Like that, Derek,” he murmured, “wanna taste you.”

Derek’s cock throbbed in agreement. He wanted Stiles to taste him. He wanted to taste Stiles. He wanted to lick from Stiles’s neck to the small of his back, right where his spine met his pelvis. He wanted to pin Stiles down in the bed, and take, take, _take-_

Aphrodisiac, he reminded himself. 

The feet got up and Stiles moved around, looking in a drawer for something. Derek shifted his legs, trying to ignore the hardness there. When Stiles climbed back on the bed, he was on all fours. 

And Derek could no longer see even the tips of his toes. Damnnit. 

Derek shook, picturing Stiles beneath him, picturing pinning him perfectly into that mattress, biting the back of his neck as he slid inside Stiles’s tight heat. Derek swallowed.

“Ah, fuck, Derek,” Stiles groaned, the bed creaking and sheets sliding- Stiles was moving. “Just like that, yeah. Wanna be your _bitch_ , Derek-“

Derek’s hands found their way to the doorknob of the closet.

“Wanna feel you inside me, stretching me out so good, so full, so warm…” Stiles trailed off. “Derek,” he pleaded again.

This wasn’t right, Derek reminded himself. Stiles was pretending. He wouldn’t be thinking those things if Derek were really -

“Derek get the fuck out of my closet and in my ass already,” Stiles practically shouted.

Oh. 

_Oh._

Derek hastily flung the closet door open, dropping his pants and taking in the sight before him- Stiles on all fours, ass up in the air and _presenting_ , fingers covered in lube sliding in and out of his hole. Derek swallowed at the sight, his cock dripping pre-come as he gazed on his fantasy come to life.

He crawled up behind Stiles, taking Stiles’s wrist in his hand and forcing Stiles’s fingers to go in deeper. Stiles didn’t resist, allowing Derek to use his fingers like a toy. The human trembled, hips twisting as he moaned. Derek smirked, licking a stripe up Stiles’s soft thigh.

“I’m sorry,” Derek uttered. “I’m not going…” he paused, embarrassed. “To last long,” he finished, deciding fucking was more important than humiliation. 

Stiles shook his head. “I won’t, either,” he admitted, back arching, body begging Derek to claim him.

Derek climbed up on the bed, pausing as he knelt over Stiles. Now that he had Stiles like this…

Stiles tried his best to look back at him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. His lips were shiny and red with spit. Derek’s gaze lingered on them for a little too long. 

“I… I want to pin you,” Derek admitted, looking away. “I wanna hold your wrists in my hand and force you to take my cock.” 

From the way Stiles shivered, Derek knew Stiles was up for that. “Leave bruises,” Stiles agreed. 

Derek had to squeeze his dick not to come right then. He took a moment to breathe, shuddering, and Stiles looked back at him and grinned (the little shit). He knew exactly what his words had done. 

The grin was a little too much, so Derek buried himself in Stiles’s spine, mouth moving downwards to his back, finally letting up and lining up his dick to Stiles’s puckered hole. “It’ll be fine-“ Derek promised, body trembling. 

Quick as a wink, Stiles spun around. 

Derek wasn’t even sure how he did it, but suddenly Stiles’s mouth covered Derek’s dick. Derek slammed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to brace against the wet heat, Stiles sucking and swallowing, lips red and debauched. 

“Stiles,” Derek breathed, opening them again. Stiles looked up at him through his lashes, almost exactly like Derek’s earlier fantasy.

Stiles pulled off the wolf’s cock with a loud pop. “Yeah, no, sorry, no anal until you and I have talked about _us_ ,” Stiles instructed him. “Now stay still.” The human dove back onto the head of the cock, taking all of it down his throat. 

Derek groaned, throwing his head back. Stiles’s mouth was warm and wet and such beautiful pressure. In moments he found his balls tightening, found himself moving towards release. With a grunt, he spilled into Stiles’s mouth. 

Stiles didn’t waste a drop, continuing to suckle until convinced nothing was left. He sat back on the bed, looking pleased. “Heat over?” he asked, licking his lips. 

Derek shuddered at the sight. Though his head was finally clear, he didn’t want to pull away just yet. He looked Stiles over, noting something he should assist Stiles with. After all, they’d agreed to it.

“Not yet,” he replied and pushed Stiles back on the bed, his mouth trailing down Stiles’s stomach towards his cock. Stiles whimpered underneath him. 

Derek paused for a moment to get a good look. He hadn’t been able to see Stiles before, and now, well… He breathed onto the red head, watching as it dribbled more pre-come for him, twitching ever so slightly. Derek grinned.

“How did you know I was here?” If Stiles couldn’t hear his question, he could certainly feel it. Derek’s lips wavered only millimeters in front of the leaking head before him. 

Stiles shifted on the bed, attempting to close the distance. “Your phone. On my floor,” Stiles revealed quickly. “I remember after I first drank the potion- I couldn’t go anywhere. Figured you’d still be here _now please fucking suck me already_.” There was a deep desperation to Stiles’s voice, one Derek reveled in. He was making Stiles that desperate.

Stiles glared at him. 

Snapping to it, Derek obeyed, hollowing his cheeks as much as he could, pulling away with a pop and pressing little kisses against Stiles’s cock. He listened to Stiles as the human breathed, “thank fuck,” and fell back on the bed, chest moving up and down with each breath.

It was a powerful feeling, knowing Derek could reduce Stiles to the mess before him.

“Hey, no, no,” Stiles uttered in response to the kisses peppering his shaft. He propped himself back on his elbows. “I’m really close. You can just suck and I’ll be finished in like ten seconds.”

Derek looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment before doing back to kisses. 

“Derek, you fucking tease,” Stiles nearly cried. “Derek, I need this. Don’t make me- Derek _please_.”

He was a terrible person. He gave a reassuring squeeze on Stiles’s hip, moving back to the tip of Stiles’s cock and took all of it in, nose pressed against Stiles’s pubes. 

Stiles let out a cry, hands fisting in Derek’s hair as he released, pouring down Derek’s throat. A whimper sounded through the room as Derek kept sucking, returning the favor. When Derek let go, Stiles let out a long sigh. 

Derek wiped his mouth, chest pleased that Stiles was flushed, sweaty, blissed out.

“We should talk,” Derek agreed, moving up to nuzzle his neck.

“Finally,” Stiles shot back. “Nap first. I’m tired.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Also! I have a tumblr now, where I post updates of fics and how other projects are progressing. Feel free to drop by! http://deltaimmortal.tumblr.com
> 
> (If you got an update about a chapter three, I am an idiot and meant that chapter for another story, I'm so sorry).


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